Hey
by binaryShenanigans
Summary: A self-insert drabble inspired by the TV Tropes page of Gregory Horror Show - calling Gregory a "Draco in Leather Pants"! I promptly laughed a hearty, elitist laugh at the trope's disgusted description of fangirls, and set to typing... Oh, who am I kidding? I think Gregory is adorable. Bite me. Drabble deals a bit with parental abuse, but in a very shallow and safe way.


"Oooh," mumbled Gregory, nursing the latest bump between his ears - strangely the consistency of cardboard covered in velvet rather than fur and cartilage - and he then snapped "What do _you_ want?"

It seemed, with that, he was in no mood to play host, and so the Guest couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear as she stood slightly taller.

"You look hurt. Can I help somehow?" She had never been graceful with words when another person was suffering - at least not face to face. So her words were terser, colder than she meant for them to be. Behind the trained, concerned look on her face, she kicked herself in the shins for sounding so robotic. Who would trust themselves with someone who sounded so insecure?

Gregory shook his head and snickered, knocking the Guest out of her inward scolding.

"I apologize for my initial outburst, my dear, you've caught me at a bit of a… _Bad time_. But it's nothing I can't handle, you'd best just be off to your room for the night." He began to waddle off dizzily, rubbing his sore head, before he heard the Guest begin to shuffle, panicked, behind him. "… Yes?"

She took one look down at Gregory - that's all she could do for now - and stammered, "It's just– I heard. Yelling a few minutes ago. Was everything okay?"

The Guest struggled desperately in between two extremes: **Don't sound too attached, don't sound weird, don't sound obsessed - because you're not** and **Sound warm, sound inviting, sound like you care - because you do**. She knew she could tell the difference if someone acted out of compassion towards her, but how could she trust someone else to tell the difference when she acted in compassion towards them? How could she trust people to understand her intentions when even the most fleeting, affectionate thought towards another person felt – nearly predatory?

And these past few moments, she could tell Gregory did not like something about what she said.

"There was just a bit of a dispute, my dear, you see – Neko Zombie got out of his cell, and–"

"But I heard Neko Zombie too, he's right next door to me," the Guest cut in, all too quickly, all too accusatory, "I heard something else. It wasn't that kind of screeching, it was like a person was speaking. Is there an older woman staying here that I don't know about?"

This was fine, she told herself, this was normal. It was normal for her as a guest to want to know who else spent their time here. Maybe he'd think she was asking out of her own selfish interests, out of the fear of being attacked by this woman.

Or maybe he'd keep glaring like he was doing now. It was a tired kind of look on his face, but the Guest saw it was something different. Annoyance, perhaps.

Swinging his arms behind his back, Gregory scolded, "You know, you really shouldn't get too involved in the affairs of strangers you're passing by. After all, how can you trust you know what's going on if you haven't been there for the whole conversation?"

The usual smug look crossed his face, the face he made when he felt he was imparting some grand, under-reported wisdom, but this time, the Guest didn't feel like she was learning anything. She felt like she was being pacified.

"… I just know it's not right if someone yells at you and calls you useless. I can't think of a lot of situations where that's justified." She tried to avoid sheepishly looking at her shoes, and instead tried to maintain eye contact for a few seconds.

And a few seconds more.

The Guest finally asked what'd been on her mind from the moment she ran into the little rat."Gregory, was that your mom? I mean… I've heard that Judgement Boy tell a story about her, and it sounds like you two don't get along. Did she hit you?"

Gregory decided he'd had about enough of this presumptuous nonsense, and he scolded again - but with a hint of warning in his voice.

"Haven't your parents taught you it's impolite to speak badly about someone's mother?"

The Guest started picking at the skin around her right thumb. "Gregory, she – she hit you, didn't she?"

"The only one who gets to say what my Mama did and didn't do is me, _my dear_ ," Gregory said, his voice rising just a bit.

"No, I– I know, I just– I heard her yelling. I know that was her yelling, and I didn't pick up on everything she was saying, it just sounded like she was insulting you. And if she hit you, it'd just… It'd make linear sense."

At this, Gregory rolled his eyes and scoffed. "You don't know anything about 'linear sense', go back to bed."

The Guest felt that she was being rushed, and she didn't have enough time for caution and formalities, and in an oblivion-seeking moment of panic, she blurted, "I just– I don't think you're useless, and I don't think it's right that she said that! You shouldn't think you're useless, you do a lot of useful things."

A nearly offended look dawned on Gregory's face, and the Guest went on, about to kick herself for stopping so short. "NOT THAT– YOU HAVE TO BE USEFUL, but you do a lot of productive things and you clean and you're responsible and there's no reason for someone to say you're useless, or that you fuck up all the time."

Gregory gasped – "LANGUAGE, my dear, that sort of coarse word doesn't befit a lady like yourself at all!" He shook his head, clicking his tongue to himself.

Poor thing didn't know that what he was 'fucking up' at, so to speak, was stealing her soul.

The Guest's heart was pounding too hard for her to think of anything else to say without devolving into a sequence of incoherent squeaks and apologies, so Gregory took the opportunity to finish his thought. "… I appreciate that you think so highly of me, nonetheless. Maybe an old man like me forgets that somewhere, there can be someone who wants to care for me, _heehee_."

 **I don't think highly of you! I mean, yes I do, of COURSE I respect you, but it's not anything you'd need to worry about, it's** – Oh, forget it, the Guest's head decided to stop turning for a little while before she speak up and make things look even worse. Though, of course, to Gregory, nothing looked out of order in the least.

"… Huh. Imagine that, I think my headache is starting to die down a bit. I was thinking of stepping into Catherine's office and sneaking a pill or two, but after your little speech, I think it'd be best if I just went to bed. You'd better do the same, my dear, you never know what lurks in the halls this late…"

Gregory offered a faint smile, one that seemed less malicious than any smile the Guest had seen on his face so far. But when she slowly, half-consciously held her arms out at him and looked away, his face dropped.

"What's that?!" He asked, battered eyes wide, as if reading something she hadn't quite said yet, "You want a hug… From _me_? Oh… How strange, I don't believe any guest has asked that of me before."

The Guest was almost positive she was about to cry from the anxiety welling up in her stomach. On second thought, she wished she hadn't reached out like that at all, now it was making her feel sick.

"Well, go on, then, give me a hug," he urged, shooting a confused look at the wall next to him. As if it could help explain her request. But as soon as that look was gone, he was a bit overcome by the giggles. "Oh - excuse me, it's just an odd request."

Terrified of misinterpreting his response as enthusiasm, the Guest's hands shook slightly as she carefully crouched and settled onto her knees in front of Gregory. He was so tiny, but like this, they were nearly the same height - she was a bit taller, though. He was. So, so tiny. She was certain the little shaky huff she gave was audible.

But nonetheless, she decided she ought to prove herself in this moment. Prove herself as what, exactly? 'Experienced' is the first word that came to mind, and she wasn't sure what she thought of that.

Tenderly, she reached out and cupped the back of Gregory's head with one hand, placing her other hand on his back, and hugged his head to her chest. He gave a startled little "oh", as he felt her cheek resting against the crown of his head - his bump wasn't too far from there, but he was more startled by how affectionate the Guest was than by the little sting. It spoke volumes about her he didn't know existed until now.

"… You know, my dear, your appearance until now gave me the impression of… A much colder woman. A witch, more like! You and your frilly black dresses, black-and-white stockings and red high heels, they look quite wicked." Gregory's head relaxed against the Guest's bosom, and he added, "But now I'm aware you're actually a very sweet girl. How interesting first impressions can be, hmhmhm…"

The Guest, positive Gregory could feel her shaking, decided to be brave one last time and press a gentle kiss to the bump between his ears. Before he could voice his surprise, she took her fingers out of his straw-like hair and stood up, turning her back on him.

"G. Goodnight," she said, voice wavering as she walked down the hall back towards her room, leaving Gregory to sit in bewilderment for a few moments.

The Guest couldn't see or hear how quickly he recovered - you see, she had broke into a run as soon as she thought she'd walked far enough into the darkness - but Gregory jumped to his feet soon enough. Maybe too soon, as a dizzy giggle jumped out of his throat, and he spun around on his heel.

"Really… How interesting first impressions can be," he said, grinning and shaking his head to get his eyes to stop spinning.


End file.
